Defying The Earl. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ order. He held no desire to be noticed and preferred the pretense of a more determined force from the shadows. The charcoal grey wool presented a respectable image, one innocuous, forgettable, and conducive to his goal. It was pure serendipity when he arrived at the same moment as Leonard Rigby. Valerian made haste to fall in step with his old acquaintance as he walked up the gravel drive.

      “Rigby, is that you? It’s been some time.” Valerian extended his hand and offered a cordial welcome.

      “Dash, this is a surprise and yes, it’s been years. I recall seeing your brother about town a few weeks ago, but I never anticipated your company. You’ve kept a low profile, although at times I too favor the countryside instead of the city.”

      An odd moment passed as each gentleman knew the main reason Valerian avoided London. Memories of Caroline were too fresh at first. Every event, invitation, and stroll in the park served as cutting suggestion of what might have been, not to mention the public humiliation of enduring the flaming gossip of one’s fiancé being caught in flagrante delicto during the season’s most well attended gathering.

      Worse, it forced one to engage an introspective examination of why such humiliation was perpetrated. Surely his intentions and emotions had been honest. Yet what had they been worth? The question evoked a wry smile. Caroline had measured his value in pounds and banknotes, not to be swayed by loyalty, devotion or something so trifling as love.

      It had made for an easy choice. Returning to the security of somewhere dependable and comforting proved the best decision and Kirby Park had not disappointed. His well-loved childhood home provided seclusion and quiet; the perfect atmosphere to lick his wounds and forget – attempt to forget – Caroline’s infidelity.

      Unexpectedly, country life grew on Val, like moss on a tree, one needing the other for survival until the thought of returning to London with its crowded streets and constant aristocratic demands paled greatly to the rolling green hills outside his window. His decision proved timely with the decline of his father soon after his return. He would never forgive himself if he hadn’t been there to tend his father during those final days.

      Surely Leonard knew it by half.

      “Responsibility, nothing more.” He answered the question and ignored the sharp twist in his heart.

      “My condolences on your father’s passing.” Rigby’s words were sincerely spoken.

      “Thank you. He is greatly missed.” Determined to take full advantage of his opportune arrival, Valerian inquired of the event as they approached the main entry. “I’m a bit out of practice. I don’t suppose you’d abide company until we are well underway?”

      Rigby, in a noticeable hurry, didn’t allow the question to deflect his purpose. He indicated the main entry with a flick of his pointer finger and showed no hesitation. “Come along then.”

      A servant dressed in Collingsworth livery opened the mahogany door and ushered them inside. “Let’s dispense of this mood and forge into the drawing room. You’re not on the hunt for a wife, are you, Dash?” Rigby hardly paused to hear his answer. “This season offers ladies aplenty.”

      “Nothing so valiant, I assure you.” He resisted the urge to chuckle at the irony of it all. From his point of view, he remained emotionally numb to romantic relationships and all the better for it.

      “Then I’ve no need to stand guard against the lady who’s stolen my heart. I’ll immerse you in the festivities by way of introduction. It’s the least I can do after initiating such somber conversation earlier. Grab yourself a drink and follow me.”

      Valerian did as he was told although his brother’s words, of Lady Fiona possessing the same characteristics as a church-bell and his rebuttal in favor of Leonard’s vociferous tendency, rang with clarity. He lifted a snifter of brandy from a passing servant’s tray and followed Leonard into the fray. The room was crowded and served him well as he melded into the background and surveyed the best manner to proceed. Matchbreaking was not something he’d ever attempted before and, coupled with Leonard’s brimming anticipation at seeing Lady Fiona, his conscious needed a firm reminder of his dire financial straits. He took a long swallow from his glass, savoring the liquor he couldn’t afford in his own home, and maneuvered through the crowd with purpose. When Rigby stopped, Valerian sidled near the small grouping in a far corner of the room.

      Two women stood cooing over an open book while a third female, a petite miss in a muted lavender-colored gown, had her back to the room as she faced the far shelf. Valerian watched as the woman traced a gloved finger down the spine of a tall volume, pausing as if considering her selection with great deliberation, before moving on to repeat the action with each subsequent volume. Her lingering stroke down each title caused his heart to tighten and his groin to heat, the visceral reaction catching him off guard. Perhaps the brandy impaired his reasoning.

      Otherwise, there existed no rationalization for the quickening of his pulse and the innate level on which his body responded to the stretch of her palm tipping the binding, the subtle caress of her fingertip as it traced the gold lettering, and surprising most of all, her intense deliberation, though sight unseen, as she made a final decision and selected a volume from the shelves lining the back wall. He shook his head to extinguish the absurd fascination and forced his attention to the conversation underway.

      Leonard launched into proper introductions but Valerian heard little, temporarily distracted as the petite miss turned, a cascade of wavy hair the exact color of burnt honey falling over her shoulder with the action. Before him stood the winsome miss who’d pulled him into a mud puddle the day before. Her eyes flared with recognition and he stifled the immediate chuckle that danced on his tongue. Oh, but the evening would prove interesting.

      How could it be? Wilhelmina held her breath as introductions concluded, but the maddened beat of her heart drowned out all voices and words. Before her, impeccably dressed in fine grey wool, stood the mysterious tyrant who assisted her from the wheel ruts after she’d met with Lady Rigby on Oxford Street. His memory invaded her daydreams ever since, but her musings had been wrong, her assumptions incorrect. He was not devilishly handsome, his eyes not entrancing in the least. He was more. Much more. Her brain sputtered to produce some adjective that applied but all paled in consideration.

      Good heavens, she would appear a bird-wit.

      Wilhelmina extended her hand as he reached forward, only to drop the book she’d just claimed. With increasing mortification, she knelt to retrieve the volume and he did in kind. They bumped heads effectively on the way down to the carpet. His velvet murmur of amusement warmed her to the core, tracing over her skin and settling deep in her belly with a joyful fluttering.

      “Now this is a surprise.”

      There they crouched, two adults at knee level among the gowns and suits of a crowded drawing room affair. The filtered candlelight cast his chiseled features in shadow and all she could see clearly was the sharp angle of his nose, the dark slash of his brows. Wilhelmina’s heart stopped beating. She raised her eyes to his as someone adjusted their position above, allowing a fleeting sliver of light within their shadowed rendezvous. When his eyes met hers, midnight blue pierced her soul. Dragging a ragged breath, she failed to produce words, flippant, eloquent or otherwise.

      “It would appear, my sweet, you have it in your mind to extinguish my existence; first by drowning in a mud puddle, and now by a rap to the head.”

      If only something charming came to mind, but she felt a stuttering loss. Would her sharp tongue suddenly fail her when she needed it most? This disruptive grip of nervousness was his fault. He unsettled her to the core.

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